"A genuine Admiral-level powerhouse… just died like that?!"
"How is that possible?! Rocks is clearly heavily wounded! Commander Richard was at full strength—and he got killed instantly? Then what are we even fighting for?!"
"I must be dreaming… I must be dreaming!"
No one could believe it.
A veteran Admiral-tier fighter had just fallen at Rocks D. Xebec's hands.
The power of the Dark-Dark Fruit was truly the natural enemy of Devil Fruit users. From beginning to end, Richard hadn't even been given the chance to resist before being dragged into merciless darkness and crushed.
Black smoke rose behind Rocks.
The hole in his abdomen and the stump where his right arm had been were both filled with swirling darkness. Though drenched in blood, he showed no sign of weakness.
If anything—
He looked even more ferocious.
"To manipulate a Logia to this extent… such precise control that he can even form a temporary arm…"
Roldy stared at Rocks, who resembled a demonic god, excitement written all over his face.
In terms of Devil Fruit mastery, Rocks stood on an entirely different level from everyone else present.
"Even this… wasn't enough?"
Saint Jaygarcia Saturn muttered under his breath. The other three Five Elders looked equally grim.
There was no doubt that Uranus was a decisive weapon—one capable of determining the outcome of the war.
But it did not come without cost.
It required enormous energy to operate.
After that attack, Uranus no longer possessed enough energy to fire again. To recharge it—
It would require tribute equivalent to the Heavenly Tribute of ten mid-sized kingdoms.
Their greatest trump card had already been used.
And the result was far from ideal.
"It had an effect. Don't exaggerate the situation," Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro said coldly. "Rocks may look fierce, but his strength has been reduced by at least half. No matter how powerful he is, with enough numbers, he can be killed."
"Numbers."
He said it lightly.
But he did not mean ordinary soldiers.
Even if every soldier on the battlefield charged at Rocks, it would only mean a few extra attacks for him to unleash.
The "numbers" Nusjuro spoke of—
Were Admiral-level combatants.
Victory built upon lives.
The losses would be unimaginable.
But there was no other choice.
If they withdrew now and allowed Rocks to recover, it would spell catastrophe for the World Government.
"Then move."
In mere seconds, the four ancient monsters who had lived for centuries finalized their plan.
Saturn pulled out a Den Den Mushi and spoke quietly.
Saint Shepherd Ju Peter focused on restoring himself.
The remaining two joined Fleet Admiral Kong and the others.
Six Admiral-level fighters.
All against one man.
"Gahahahaha! Now this is the kind of sight I like to see! Let the blood flow like a river!"
Roldy threw his head back in laughter.
Above them, Uranus began to withdraw. Even its remaining energy allowed it to move at remarkable speed. Within moments, the bright full moon once again shone in Roldy's pupils.
The moon hung high—
At its brightest.
A crimson hue spread visibly across Roldy's eyes.
His body swelled once more.
The killing machine returned.
On the verge of completely losing his reason, he roared and charged toward a pirate.
He recognized him.
A member of the Roger Pirates.
And as everyone knew—
Roldy was a generous man who never held grudges.
Because he settled them on the spot.
In his current state, Roldy was a nightmare for anyone below Admiral-tier.
This pirate was no weakling—one of the Roger Pirates' core fighters, roughly comparable to a Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral.
But his opponent—
Was Roldy.
The moment his Observation Haki reacted—
A massive hand blotted out the sky.
Roldy roared. Strands of saliva stretched between his fangs. His palm descended.
The pirate's face turned pale, yet he still activated his strongest defense.
The result was inevitable.
Boom.
He was crushed into pulp.
"NO!!!"
A grief-stricken roar echoed from afar.
Roldy turned his head.
A massive crimson slash tore through the battlefield toward him.
Divine Departure.
"Divine Departure."
If the gods retreat, I won't—I surpass them.
Roldy had no intention of dodging.
The current Gol D. Roger had not yet reached the peak that history would remember. Meanwhile, Roldy, under multiple enhancements, stood at his strongest state yet.
He roared, pounding his chest, and slashed forward with his claws, fearless.
His nails—hard as refined steel—
Shattered instantly.
Pain exploded through him. Blood dripped from his fingertips.
He had underestimated it.
In this era, fate clearly favored Roger.
Rocks was already showing signs of decline—not merely in battle, but by the invisible current of destiny.
In his rage, Roger's power surged to extraordinary heights.
Realizing the danger, Roldy crossed his arms in defense.
The crimson slash struck.
Blood sprayed.
The blade nearly cut to bone.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out.
A bullet wreathed in black energy struck Roger's left arm.
Intense pain beaded sweat across Roger's forehead.
He looked up—
And met a face filled with arrogant savagery.
"Roger, was it? You little brat of the seas."
"You dare raise your blade against my proudest first mate?"
"Are you looking to die?!"
His proudest first mate?
Who?
Roldy?
Even Roldy himself didn't know that.
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